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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454100">Goldilocks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetjedi/pseuds/starfleetjedi'>starfleetjedi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apocalypse, Burglary, Dubious Science, End of the World, F/M, Inspired by The Twilight Zone, No Pregnancy, bleak ending, impact event, not sponsored by Bath &amp; Body Works</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:54:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfleetjedi/pseuds/starfleetjedi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no more darkness. This is the eve of the end, because even at midnight it's high noon, the hottest day in history, and the Earth is crashing into the Sun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>To Rapture the Earth and the Seas: the 2020 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Perturbation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126832">the surface of last scattering</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/diasterisms">diasterisms</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based loosely on Twilight Zone Season 3 Episode 10, "The Midnight Sun". The summary is heavily lifted from the opening narration. I highly recommend you watch this amazing episode.</p><p>This fic is also an homage to diasterisms’ "the surface of last scattering". I know next to nothing about the science of astronomy, so this fic will require <b><span class="u">intense</span></b> suspension of disbelief.</p><p>Many thanks to my beta, reylotrash711 ♥</p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <br/>  </p>
</div>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> ☼</p>
<p><em> "Sixty-four days?" </em> The news anchor looks pale as she parrots back the number to her interviewee.</p>
<p><em> "That’s the estimated time of impact, but studies show that mankind will be extinct in approximately 35 days." </em> The scientist—whose name Rey has already forgotten—recites the facts as if he were reading the Business section of the weekend paper.</p>
<p>
  <em> "Have we found out what happened? What truly caused the Earth to just out of nowhere careen towards the Sun?" </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Currently, there is no known cause. No entity or country on Earth caused this, despite the speculation and conspiracy theories all over social media, or the false news perpetuated by various news sources. No bombs, shockwaves, or anything of the sort from the US, Russia, North Korea, and so forth." </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Do we at least have a solution or a way to stop whatever is happening?” </em>
</p>
<p>The scientist takes a few seconds, debating the pros and cons of lying to avoid mass hysteria. Not that he needed to lie—the answer was obvious. He bows his head and refuses to look at the camera as he says, bluntly, <em> "No." </em></p>
<p>Rey switches off her TV. What a way to start a Monday.</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>Another day, another empty mailbox.</p>
<p>Most days, such as today, Rey wonders why she even bothers walking down five flights of stairs only to climb back up empty-handed. Half of those days, as she stomps back up to her apartment, she promises that she’ll buy something online out of spite just to get <em> something </em> in the mail. But as soon as she flings herself onto her couch, she forgets her plan to have an Amazon shopping spree, and she’ll repeat the process every day.</p>
<p>"Good afternoon." A deep voice startles her. Rose lovingly refers to him as Neighbor Ben to differentiate him from Super Ben, their building superintendent. He’s lived in the apartment across the hall from Rey’s longer than she’s lived in the city, but she’s probably seen him a grand total of seven times and talked to him three—once to introduce herself when she moved in three years ago, and twice to exchange quick hellos in the hall before he disappeared into his apartment.</p>
<p>Ben gives her a quick nod and a small smile before he proceeds to dig into his mailbox. From the corner of her eye, she watches as he flips through envelopes and tuts at junk mail.</p>
<p>"Anything good?" She winces slightly as soon as she says it. <em> Too nosy </em>, she thinks.</p>
<p>But Ben just shrugs. "Bills. You?"</p>
<p>"I never get anything," she laughs bitterly, and he responds with a grunt and a weak smile.</p>
<p>Rey takes this moment to quickly study him. He’s insanely tall, mysterious, keeps to himself. She can’t tell if he works from home or somewhere else, or if he even works.</p>
<p>And—Rey almost hates to think it, scared that he can hear her thoughts—he’s <em> cute </em>. In an aloof, gentle giant sort of way.</p>
<p>Ben shifts and rocks on his heels briefly before shuffling backwards. "Well, see you around."</p>
<p>Before Rey can think of a clever response, he races up the stairs in a flurry of long limbs and black hair.</p>
<p>"See you," she whispers to no one.</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>A lot can change in three weeks. Especially in the face of an apocalypse.</p>
<p>On one particular morning, Ben wakes up on top of his sweat-soaked jersey-knit sheets. His bedroom is stuffy, and the air feels heavy, and he desperately needs a shower. He strips as he makes his way to the bathroom, noting that the clock on his nightstand says 5:23 AM but the sun is already out like it’s 9 AM.</p>
<p>He groggily braces himself against the shower wall as he turns the knob for achingly cold water, eager to soothe the burning discomfort all over his body.</p>
<p>But nothing comes out.</p>
<p>He turns the knob all the way to the left—still nothing.</p>
<p>Slapping the showerhead doesn’t do anything; he knows this, but he does it anyway.</p>
<p>He growls as he wraps a towel around his waist and stalks to the bathroom sink, then his kitchen sink. All to confirm a dreaded inevitability—drought.</p>
<p>The pile of unopened mail and flyers sitting on his counter catches his eye. He sifts through them, determined to find that one piece of lurid yellow paper that his landlord likes to use. If he remembers correctly, Plutt shoved that paper under his door a few days ago, but Ben never got around to reading it before banishing it to join the rest of his mail.</p>
<p>He finds it under a Pennysaver.</p>
<p>In 72-pt black Comic Sans, center-aligned, against mustard yellow paper, the words WATER RATIONING mockingly look back up at him. In smaller type underneath, Plutt’s sign says, "Water on 9-10 am and 4-5 pm only starting Monday. Electricity off 6 pm – 6 am. NO RENT DISCOUNT!!!!!!!!!!"</p>
<p>He wonders why the electricity shut-off isn’t more pronounced, why it is mentioned like a footnote, with less emphasis than Plutt’s opinion on the rent with (he counts) ten exclamation marks. Would rent really matter when the world comes to an end in a few more weeks?</p>
<p>It’s bad enough that the global temperature seems to have risen by ten degrees in the past month, so Ben has been living in a constant state of shirtless sweatiness. He’s had to limit his excursions outside just to avoid putting on clothes, venturing downstairs once a week to check on his mailbox. He had, unfortunately, run into his neighbor, that young girl, Rey, a few weeks ago and he had to make a hasty retreat back into his apartment before a stray gust of wind wafted his odor in her direction.</p>
<p>Now he has to deal with no water and no AC. Plutt might as well barge into his apartment in the middle of the night and smother him with a pillow.</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>The ice cubes in Rey’s glass melt entirely too fast, watering down her once-sickly drink. The instructions on the Costco-sized canister indicated two-thirds cup of powdered iced tea to eight cups of water, but Rey swears she saw Rose dump in an extra scoop in the pitcher. The saccharine sweetness scratches her throat, and she wishes they had more ice, if only so she could suck on something actually refreshing.</p>
<p>The sweat running down her neck makes her feel gross and sticky, but Rose insisted on dragging a couple of dining chairs and an end table out on the balcony so they could get some fresh morning air. <em> And a sunburn </em>, Rey thinks, staring at her once pale legs now steadily reddening under the unnatural heat.</p>
<p>She contemplates running downstairs and across the street to the convenience store for another $10 bag of ice, but she knows by now that the supply never lasts past a few hours after the store opens, and with Plutt cutting off electricity for most the day, she’ll just be looking at a bag of cold water by noon.</p>
<p>"Rey," Rose starts. She perches her glass on the balcony railing and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Rey watches as the condensation from the glass pools at the bottom. "Paige and I are going to Hoth in a couple of days. We have cousins there and they’ve agreed to let us stay with them."</p>
<p>Her stomach drops, and the glass in her hand nearly slips. She swallows thickly and refuses to look in her best friend’s direction.</p>
<p>Denial.</p>
<p>Rey surmises that she had been in a state of denial for the past week. Not truly believing the end of the world, despite the endless discourse online, in the narrow hallways of the apartment, at the grocery store, on the tabloid pages lining the windows of the permanently-closed flower shop across their building. "EXTINCTION WITHIN 35 DAYS", one page announced.</p>
<p>But Rey didn’t believe it. She <em> refused </em> to believe any of it. Her rational mind couldn’t make sense of it, of how the Earth just changed its trajectory, and for no good reason. The worldwide panic was getting ridiculous. This was all fake news. The reduced water and power cut-offs had to be temporary. In a little over a month, when the Earth <em> doesn’t </em> crash into the Sun, humankind will look back at this point in time and laugh at the fuss.</p>
<p>She and Rose would be here again, sipping on iced tea and laughing about the supposed end of the world that never came to be.</p>
<p>Except, they can’t do that if Rose is leaving, can they?</p>
<p>"I don’t want to leave you here." Rose reaches over and places her small hand on Rey’s knee. It is clammy, either from the condensation or nervous sweat. She pleads, "Come with us; it’s colder there—"</p>
<p>Rey scoffs. "They barely have any snow left—"</p>
<p>"But at least it’s not as hot as it is here."</p>
<p>Rey sighs deeply, the movement jostling the contents of her glass. "Rose, I can’t. I live here." She looks up and meets her friend’s worried gaze. "I can’t leave."</p>
<p>"Hun, they won’t—"</p>
<p>"They <em> will </em>." Rey imagines the glass cracking under her tight grip. She squints toward the horizon, lips pursed and brows furrowed. "There’s still time. They will," she whispers. </p>
<p>Rose sighs in silent surrender.</p>
<p>Rey knocks back the rest of her tea. "Besides," she forces a small smile and a cheery tone, "I won’t be alone. I talked to Neighbor Ben a few weeks ago downstairs. And he nodded at me yesterday, too."</p>
<p>Rose snorts. "Neighbor Ben finally crawled out of his cave?"</p>
<p>"He seems shy. In a hurry to come back up."</p>
<p>"So a hermit crab," Rose quips, grinning behind her glass.</p>
<p>"A very tall, very dark hermit crab." They giggle as Rose clinks her glass against Rey’s empty one, all talk of leaving and moving momentarily forgotten.</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>A loud bang. A shriek. Possibly a scuffle.</p>
<p>Ben isn’t sure which noise wakes him first, but he bolts out of bed as soon as he hears it. He nearly trips on his slippers in his haste to wrench his bedroom door open. He doesn’t wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he barrels straight into his living room, fists clenched and ready to swing.</p>
<p>But the room is empty.</p>
<p>"Stop!" Another piercing shriek, from the apartment across the hall.</p>
<p>His feet carry him another few feet across the living room, across the hall, and through his neighbor’s kicked-in door—</p>
<p>—and crashes into someone who is panting, wheezing, screaming.</p>
<p>"Fucking bitch!" A man—the man he ran into with the bloodshot eyes and the torn shirt—elbows Ben and scurries down the hall and out of sight.</p>
<p>Rey pushes past Ben and swings a pan in both hands. "<em> You </em> broke in here! Come back and try it again!"</p>
<p>She is breathing heavily even as she lowers her arms. Ben notices she’s armed not with an ordinary frying pan, but a 12-inch cast-iron skillet that is easily eight pounds and could crush a man’s skull with one good swing.</p>
<p>He steps back out of her reach, effectively putting him past the threshold to her apartment, before clearing his throat. "Are you alright?"</p>
<p>Rey jerks her head to look at him, her eyes blazing with righteous fiery anger and cheeks flushed with adrenaline. Thankfully, she doesn’t swing her skillet at him.</p>
<p>"That arsehole broke in," she says after swallowing thickly. "Tried to steal my water."</p>
<p>Ben nods, still keeping an eye on the skillet in her shaky grip. It takes him three seconds to think it through, over and over, weighing the risks and rewards—then he steps forward carefully with arms outstretched towards her weapon. <em> I’m not going to hurt you. Let me help you. </em> "Are you hurt?" he asks.</p>
<p>His question flips a switch somewhere in her brain, because she shudders and the flame in her eyes go out. She lets him take the skillet from her, lets him lead her inside her apartment by her elbow.</p>
<p>When she doesn’t respond, he gives her a quick visual evaluation from head to toe. Save for her mussed hair and red cheeks, she doesn’t look like she sustained any cuts or major injuries.</p>
<p>"I’m fine," she finally supplies. Then with a small grin, she adds, "But I’m sure I got a good hit in on that wanker. I think he lives in this building."</p>
<p>He frowns. "Should I call the cops? Perhaps Plutt, too. He can identify your burglar."</p>
<p>Rey shrugs, then sinks into her couch and closes her eyes. Her passivity allows Ben a moment to gather his wits and assess the situation. Her apartment is dim, lit only by a scented candle wrapped in foil and perched on the edge of the end table next to the couch. The clock above the narrow archway that separates the kitchen from the living room indicates it is 3:08 AM.</p>
<p>It is entirely too early for shenanigans, but it’s not like he has work or plans to look forward to in the morning.</p>
<p>"I don’t have my phone with me. Hang tight while I go—"</p>
<p>"Use mine, on the dining table," she interjects without even opening her eyes.</p>
<p>Ben doesn’t want to say that the other reason he wants to slip out for a bit is to grab a robe. In his haste to check on the commotion, he skipped a shirt and pants. The last thing he wants is for her to calm down from her adrenaline high and see her large, reclusive neighbor shirtless and pantless in the middle of her living room.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, he shuffles into the front of the room where two toppled chairs surround a small round dining table where her phone rests.</p>
<p>"Funny story, I wouldn’t have found him had I not remembered I left my phone out here," she calls out from the other room. Her tone has a slight edge to it, dulled only by bitter humor. "Even funnier, I came out to charge it, but we don’t have power until six."</p>
<p>Her phone unlocks with a swipe—if the circumstances were different, he would lecture her on the numerous risks of a poorly-secured (or in her case, <em> un </em>secured) phone, but now is not the time. Her phone has enough charge for a call or two, so Ben dials 911 and quickly relays the events to the dispatcher, who sounded like she couldn’t care any less about their emergency. She promises to send officers their way, before terminating the call. By this time, Rey’s phone is running on 3% battery power.</p>
<p>"The cops should be here in a bit," he informs her quietly. "I’m going to go back into my apartment for a second—"</p>
<p>"Can I come?"</p>
<p>He hears her get up from the couch, then peek out from the other side of the wall. He doesn’t miss the fraction of a second when her eyes widen, just now realizing he is standing in her apartment in his boxers. But she recovers quickly; even the pink blush on her cheeks retreat when she fakes a cough.</p>
<p>"I’m just going to grab a shirt and pants," Ben reassures her. "I’ll come back and wait for the cops with you, if you want."</p>
<p>"He might return with backup," she pleads. The way she looks up at him with her hazel eyes—he couldn’t say no.</p>
<p>So that’s how Rey ends up standing in Ben’s living room, her hands wrapped around the three-wick scented candle glass as she patiently waits for him to put something on in the bedroom.</p>
<p>"It’s weird, your apartment layout is a mirror image of mine." Her voice sounds much closer, like she’s edged towards the bedroom door to keep from yelling at him across the apartment.</p>
<p>Ben flings open a drawer and pulls on the thinnest black shirt he can find, then rummages for pajama pants.</p>
<p>"I always wondered what other units look like," she continues. He can hear the soft pitter-patter of her feet on the carpet and he imagines her squinting in the dark as she studies the architectural nuances of his home. "My friend Rose, she lived upstairs in a two-bedroom with her sister, Paige. Their layout was different, of course."</p>
<p>He emerges from the bedroom looking far more decent than he was a few minutes ago, but that doesn’t stop her from checking him out quickly before turning towards the door.</p>
<p>Ben follows her out into the hall, stopping just at her door on her cue. "I remember your friend Rose. Ran into her a few times. You said she <em> lived </em> upstairs—does she no longer…" He stops when he notices the sudden downcast look on her face and the heavy, melancholic sigh that curls from her lips as she hunches her shoulders.</p>
<p>"She and Paige moved to Hoth last week."</p>
<p><em> Oh. </em> "Oh," he mutters. She is clearly sad about her friend leaving, and unfortunately, Ben does not have a lick of experience comforting anyone his whole life. He’s always avoided tense and dreary situations, a by-product of a childhood tainted with the sounds of his parents arguing almost nightly. He’d shut himself in his room, drowning out the rest of the world with Vivaldi’s Concerto No. 4 in F minor cranked up to the highest volume his Discman would allow. The CD and the Discman were gifts from his Uncle Luke, who took him to a flea market one day and bought him the set on a whim after Ben gave it a curious glance.</p>
<p>Right now, he doesn’t have the luxury of distracting either of them with classical music.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Rey doesn’t dwell on it too much, choosing instead to squat on the laminate flooring with her back against the door to her apartment. "Would you mind waiting out here with me until the police arrive?"</p>
<p>She pats the spot next to her, and while Ben thinks the hallway floor is dirtier than his toilet seat, he plops down next to her anyway. He maintains a respectable distance, enough so she can set down her large candle between them.</p>
<p>"Thanks, Ben," she says softly.</p>
<p>It’s been a long time since he’s heard anyone call him Ben. Hearing it from her startles him, so all he responds with is a grunt and a nod.</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>
  <em> Aloha Kiwi Passionfruit. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That’s what the big, round glass says on the front. Rey has never been one to splurge on self-indulgent creature comforts such as bath bombs and scented candles, which is why Rose gifted her a bag of the stuff last Christmas. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Rose, these are $24 each!" she had exclaimed when she dug through the heavy paper bag and found an assortment of three-wick candles in thick, round glass jars. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Rose merely waved her off. "That’s right, so you’d better use them. There’s one for each season." She reached into the bag to pull out one wrapped with a mint green label, then checked the bottom. "See, this one is Frozen Lake and it says it smells like lavender leaves, eucalyptus, juniper berries, and essential oils. Very wintery, don’t you think?" </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "What I think is you spent entirely too much on my Christmas presents," Rey huffed as she studied the other three candles. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "It’s because I love you." She hastily added, "And you need to take a break from your patchouli incense sticks." Rose scrunched her nose for added effect. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Maz gave me those!" </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Mhmm, and that’s nice, but you need variety. Your apartment is starting to smell like a New Age boutique." Rose swapped Frozen Lake for Aloha Kiwi Passionfruit and rattled off the scent notes, "Passionfruit, kiwi, pineapple." She popped off the shiny top and took a deep sniff that made her eyes roll to the back of her head. "I can’t wait for summer when you light this baby up." </em>
</p>
<p>Rey watches the mesmerizing dance of the three small flames wicking away at the Aloha Kiwi Passionfruit candle that Rose liked so much. Maz, her foster mother, had taught her to wrap a length of aluminium foil around the glass so the candle burns evenly, instead of melting a hole right down the middle of the wax. Right now, she battles the temptation to playfully dip her pinky into the warm puddle of liquid wax that is threatening to submerge the wicks.</p>
<p>Ben hasn’t said anything since they sat down. He’s crossed his ankles together, one foot restlessly bobbing on top of the other—that’s how she checks if he’s awake.</p>
<p>"How long did they say until the police arrive?" she asks.</p>
<p>"‘Shortly’," he responds humorlessly. "Whatever that means."</p>
<p>She nudges his ankle with her foot. "Hey, thanks again. No one else even came out to check on me." She scans the other units down the dark hall, trying to place faces on doors, but finds that she doesn’t really know any of her other neighbors, and they likely don’t know her either. Even so, if she heard banging and screaming in the middle of the night, she would still do the nice neighborly thing and check on others’ welfare.</p>
<p>"Are you sure you’re alright? Did he get you?" Ben sits up straighter so he can crane his neck to get a better look at her.</p>
<p>To ease his worry, Rey gives him her toothiest smile and flexes her arms like Rosie the Riveter. "He was too slow, and my skillet was closer. I’m fine, Ben."</p>
<p>This must placate him, because he nods once, settles back against the wall, and closes his eyes.</p>
<p>"Do you have work or something in the morning? I’m sorry for keeping you up so late," she says softly.</p>
<p>"No, I quit last month. But I may have to push back my regularly scheduled brunch nap in favor of an extended early morning nap." He says all this with such a straight face that Rey has to second-guess whether he is joking. When the corner of his lips twitch, she playfully punches his bicep.</p>
<p>Several things hit her all at once—exhaustion, the heat, sleepiness, the jolt of electricity that travelled from Ben’s hard bicep to her knuckles and through her veins, igniting her blood and causing her to blurt, "Would you like to come inside?"</p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>Ben feels his ass starting to grow numb against the hard laminate floor of the filthy hallway. He shifts now and then, sitting on one cheek for a few minutes before switching to the other. He tries not to think about the rodents and cockroaches that have traversed the floors, because the thought makes him gag, and that in turn makes him think about how many drunk neighbors have puked in the hall. He closes his eyes and takes a few calming breaths, conjuring images of green orchards, thundering waterfalls, and babbling brooks. If Rey notices his agitation, she doesn’t say anything. His body is tired, but his mind is going a mile a minute, wondering how in the near-ending world he’d come to sit with his neighbor outside their doors at 4 AM.</p>
<p>He watches the flickering orange glow cast by her candle on the ceiling. The color reminds him of the Sun, their eventual executioner, the true blight upon humanity. He almost wants to laugh; for millennia, humankind always thought the destruction of the planet would be man made—pestilence, war, famine, death of all living things. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Who knew the Sun would do a proverbial "hold my beer"?</p>
<p><em> The world is ending and nothing matters </em>, he thinks.</p>
<p>"Would you like to come inside?" she asks, piercing through his grim thoughts.</p>
<p>Almost immediately, his caveman brain connects with the rest of him—touch-starved, lonely, and painfully aware of the attractive young woman less than a foot away from him. It’s been so long since…</p>
<p>But he pulls himself together, remembering he is not a teenager and that now is not the time to twist her innocent question into something lewd.</p>
<p>"Ben?" Rey’s hand is on his bicep again, resting there, squeezing lightly. "Did you fall asleep with your eyes open?"</p>
<p>He covers her hand with his, brief enough to feel her tense up and pull away. He pretends not to notice, then moves to stand up while offering her his hand to help.</p>
<p>When finally he sinks into her soft couch, he decides to live in it and never leave. The leather is warm and scratchy in some places, but it is a cloud compared to the hard hallway floor and wall. He watches silently as she pulls the balcony door open halfway, hoping to coax a breeze or cool air inside.</p>
<p>There is plenty of space on the couch, but she chooses to maintain the same distance from outside, perhaps even a little closer now that the candle is on the coffee table in front of them.</p>
<p>The clock by the kitchen now says 4:23 AM.</p>
<p>After another long stretch of silence, he says, "I don’t think the cops are coming."</p>
<p>She probably already knew that, because she just shrugs. "Will you stay here, at least until morning?"</p>
<p>"Of course." Morning means sunrise, and nowadays, that’s in less than an hour.</p>
<p>If he has to sit through another round of awkward silence, he is going to dip his fingers into the melted candle wax and jam them into his eyes. So to avoid torturing himself, he decides to keep the conversation going.</p>
<p>For the next hour, he learns quite a bit about Rey. She used to be a mechanic, before the garage closed shortly after news broke of the Earth spinning its way into the Sun. Her foster mother, a woman named Maz, lives two states away and Rey misses her terribly, as much as she misses her best friend, Rose.</p>
<p>At some point, she reaches under the coffee table to retrieve a clear plastic box that rattles. "I make these out of polymer clay. They’re a moderate hit online. Pays a portion of rent," she says as she pries open the box and takes out a bottle cap that ensconces a fairytale-like garden scene, complete with a rock, tall blades of grass, and a shiny fly agaric mushroom with the shiny red cap and white dots. She shows him another bottle cap, this one filled with tiny, smooth succulents.</p>
<p>"Rey, these are very impressive," Ben breathes as he examines a bottle cap with fat pink succulents.</p>
<p>"Thank you. Yet another thing I learned from Maz," she replies. She pulls another from the collection and holds it up for him to see. When he squints, she moves closer until their hips bump against each other and her shoulder slides against his arm that is resting against the back of the couch.</p>
<p>"This one is my favorite." Her voice drops to a whisper as she brings the bottle cap under his nose. By the dim candlelight, he can make out an orange blob suspended in clear resin. He blinks a few times until he can make out the blob—a plump goldfish, peeking out from under a sage green lily pad.</p>
<p>She shows him more of her creations, each time her shoulder brushes against his arm or his chest, he finds it harder to concentrate on what she’s saying. When she brings up her legs so she can rest her chin on her knees, she involuntarily presses more into him until she is fully tucked into his side.</p>
<p>"Can I get you some water? A pillow?" she asks after she puts the box of bottle caps back under the table and leans back into him, where she fits perfectly. Like she’s always belonged there.</p>
<p>"I’m good," he drawls. He doesn’t tell her that he simply doesn’t want her to get up again and rethink their seat plan. It turns out that two years of celibacy makes him desperate for the tiniest bit of intimacy, making him cling to the barest touch of her skin against his. He knows how pathetic this all sounds in his head, but… <em> The world is ending and nothing matters. </em></p>
<p>☼</p>
<p>At 6 AM, when the sun is high and bright enough and the conversation has dulled due to drowsiness, Rey extricates herself from Ben’s side and closes the balcony door. </p>
<p>"I guess I should go back to my apartment," Ben mumbles. He stretches his legs and his arms, then grunts and moans in a way that makes her insides quake and her legs strain from <em> not </em> walking over and straddling his hips.</p>
<p>She tries not to let her disappointment show when she thanks him for keeping her company.</p>
<p>"I enjoyed the conversation." He stretches his arms over and behind his head, the action pulling his black cotton shirt up to expose taut pale skin and the beginnings of a V that directs her eyes down to his crotch. Her blatant staring is interrupted when Ben asks, "Will you be alright here by yourself?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yeah. I don’t think he’ll try breaking in again in broad daylight," she assures him. "We should try to get some sleep."</p>
<p>They rock back and forth on their heels in tandem for a few seconds before Ben steps forward and opens his arms as a silent way to beckon her into a hug. She gladly meets him halfway, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing lightly.</p>
<p>"I’m right next door if you need anything," he whispers into her hair. "Just knock loudly to wake me." He laughs weakly as he releases her and steps back. Rey lets her arms fall slowly, giving her hands time to wander down his back, his side, his front, feeling the hard ridges of his stomach clench when her fingers swipe across the front of his shirt.</p>
<p>And then he is walking backwards until he is outside and closing her door softly. She waits until she hears the muffled sound of his apartment door closing, and then she calmly walks into her bedroom.</p>
<p>Her tank top and her shorts come off quickly, and the bed creaks as she lies down on top of her sheets. Her fingers find the spot between her thighs that have been aching all night, smothered by crossing her legs tightly as she snuggled into Ben’s side.</p>
<p>Ben, with his heady musky smell and hard muscles under soft pyjamas. When she situated herself within his reach on the couch, she was hoping he would take the bait and make a move. Perhaps bend his arm and reach around her shoulders to brush his knuckles against her hardened nipples. She wanted him to take advantage of their nearness and her vulnerability, but she hadn’t counted on how much of a gentleman he was.</p>
<p>He is too nice and safe when she needs him to be rough and forward.</p>
<p><em> I’m so lonely </em>, she cries into the back of her fist as the fingers of her other hand slick through the moisture between her folds and rub against the hood of her clit.</p>
<p>Rey thinks of Ben’s parting hug and the way he had smelled, faintly like the Aloha Kiwi Passionfruit candle. She imagines that two of her fingers are one of his, and she imagines what he would look like if his mouth were on her cunt instead.</p>
<p>She comes with a strangled cry that she muffles by clasping a hand over her mouth. She waits until her knees have stopped shaking to turn over and bury her head in a pillow. The bright sun rays had been beating through her windows and her eyelids, threatening to burn through her retinas.</p>
<p>"Fuck, Ben," she mutters into her pillow before succumbing to sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Fever Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kids live in her building—Rey recognizes them. She watches from her balcony as the boy produces a brown egg from one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts before passing it to the girl. She studies the egg, they both look up and down the street conspiratorially, and then she cracks the egg on the hood of the dusty red Tercel parked outside their building entrance.</p><p>Rey can’t tell from five stories up, but she’s certain the egg is slowly frying sunny side up. The thought makes her hungry, which leads her to poke around her pantry, but she comes up empty. Today, she doesn’t have anything in her apartment that she wants to eat.</p><p>Without really thinking about it, she grabs a package of English muffins and pads over to the apartment next door.</p><p>It takes Ben nearly a minute to open, and she suspects he spent half of it looking through the peephole and debating whether to entertain the weird girl next door.</p><p>But he is smiling when he greets her, so maybe her silly notions of him are just that—<em> silly </em>. So far, he’s been nothing but nice and courteous to her. No reason to suddenly change just because of one unconventional night of burglar watch and deep conversation together. In fact, they should be BFFs now after what they’d gone through the other night.</p><p>"Will you trade me something for half of these muffins?" she asks by way of greeting, holding up the package in her hands as an offering.</p><p>Ben cocks an eyebrow and looks between her and the muffins hesitantly. "Uh, sure? What would you like?"</p><p>"Can I come in and see?"</p><p>He steps aside and motions for her to come in, so she skips past him and heads straight for his pantry. The mirrored layout feels strange still, but she busies herself with his food stores. He has crisps, sourdough bread, an unopened jumbo jar of bread and butter pickles, microwavable cauliflower rice, a huge jar of organic "power nut" butter, and an assortment of canned vegetables and fruit.</p><p>"Do you mind if I dig into the pickles?" She looks over her shoulder to find him looming over her. He senses their proximity and steps back.</p><p>"Go ahead." He retrieves two forks from a drawer next to the sink, then pulls out chairs at the dining table for both of them. Wordlessly, he and Rey exchange fork and pickle jar.</p><p>She marvels at how his biceps bulge slightly when he twists the top of the jar off, not even breaking a sweat, and congratulates herself on her excellent choice.</p><p>She spears a pickle and takes a crunchy bite. "What are you up to today?" she asks between chews.</p><p>Ben digs around the jar with his fork. "I was watching the news. Here," he lifts the giant glass jar with one hand and cocks his head to the living room, beckoning her to join him.</p><p>They sink down on his couch, a modest distance apart, as Ben clicks a button on his remote that wakes his TV and plays the paused video of a YouTube news commentator reviewing a clip.</p><p>"Ew," Rey gasps. The old man on the upper right corner clip insert looks absolutely grotesque—wizened, beady-eyed, and sporting a deep, ugly scar that’s scooped nearly half his cheek out. The garish gold lamé suit doesn’t help his image either.</p><p>She skims through the chyron: <em> EXEGOL CAVES—SNOKE PROMISES DELIVERANCE. </em></p><p>Snoke speaks with a menacing drawl that sends chills down Rey’s spine. <em> "—the caves in one of my properties—I won’t say where or which one, you understand. This gateway to another galaxy is our only salvation—" </em></p><p>The YouTube host pauses the video. <em> "This is Snoke, one of the founders of Palpatine and Snoke, which probably sounds familiar because it is the pharmaceutical company that hiked the price of cancer drug Quadene by 500 percent last year. This guy is like, what—120 years old? Look at him. To quote Mr. T, I pity the fool who falls for this scam. Half a million dollars to crawl into these supposed caves that lead to a planet called Ex—" </em> He appears to check his notes. <em> "Exo—Exegol—who the fuck comes up with this shit? Sounds like one of their drugs. Anyway, this planet is supposedly in a habitable zone, so I’m guessing you don’t need oxygen tanks." </em></p><p>He throws another clip onscreen. This time, it is of a middle-aged man in the driver’s seat of his parked car. <em> "I just sent a cashier’s check to Palpatine and Snoke. That was all of my wife’s and my life savings, and it hurts a little thinking about it, but I figured we probably won’t need cash no more on Snoke’s planet. </em>"</p><p>The host cuts the clip. "<em> This guy pledged his life savings for a clear-cut scam, and he’s not the only one. My source tells me—" </em></p><p>Ben exits out of the video, taking them back to the YouTube homepage. "I used to work for Snoke."</p><p>Rey stops munching on her pickle to study Ben’s face. He’s not looking at her, but she can tell by the hard lines of his jaw that he’s not too amused by his former employer.</p><p>"He’s not lying about the caves," Ben continues. Rey’s ears prick up, but he shoots down any misunderstanding. "They’re real, but they most certainly don’t lead to another planet or galaxy."</p><p>Rey resumes her pickle-eating. "<em> I pity the fool </em>…"</p><p>☼</p><p>At 8 AM, Rey is posted out on her balcony in her underwear, sunglasses, and a sour look on her face. She had to drape a blanket over her chair to keep the metal from burning the back of her legs, but now the cotton is absorbing her sweat so she’s sitting in a grossly damp chair.</p><p>She tries to ignore the uncomfortable wetness, focusing instead on kneading the polymer clay between her fingers. She pinches a small lump of granite clay from its brick and works it between her thumb and forefinger, but it is unyielding. With a frustrated growl, she abandons her mission to make miniature boulders for another bottle cap garden and instead switches to the sage green clay, hoping to roll blades of grass instead.</p><p>"Bugger," she mutters when the green clay hardens just as she rolls it into the shape of a very fat, short snake.</p><p>She glares at the Sun from behind her sunglasses, fighting the temptation to shake her fist at the bright white orb in the sky, before sighing deeply in surrender and packing up her craft materials and slinking back into her stuffy apartment. Her fist shakes with pent-up fury as she slams her little box of polymer clays and bottle caps into her desk drawer.</p><p>Less than a minute later, Rey is banging on Ben’s door. "I know you’re home," she says to the door after ten seconds of no response.</p><p>She hears him call out from the other side. "Rey?"</p><p>She rolls her eyes. "No, I am your father."</p><p>"Door’s unlocked."</p><p>She finds him sprawled out like a starfish in the middle of his living room, clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs.</p><p>She nudges his foot in greeting. "Hey, how come you have a ceiling fan in here and I don’t?"</p><p>He shrugs and pats the spot next to him. "What’s up?"</p><p>Rey lies down next to him, initially trying not to come into contact with his body, but finds that she either scoot down so her head is right next to his belly or suck it up and use his outstretched arm as a pillow.</p><p>He doesn’t seem to mind when she chose the latter option.</p><p>"You smell like sunscreen," he drawls.</p><p>"I sat outside for a bit, but the Sun kept baking my clay," she explains. "What are you up to?"</p><p>Her head bobs up and down slowly as he takes in a deep breath that moves his entire upper body. "I was listening to a podcast until it got depressing."</p><p>Rey turns on her side to face him so her cheek is pressing against his bicep. He turns his head slightly to acknowledge her. "What was it about?" she asks nonchalantly as if the nearness of his face isn’t twisting her nerves and igniting a pool of heat between her legs.</p><p>"Oh, you know—besides ‘how do we slow down the Earth or change our trajectory’, they’ve added speculation of shuttles being built right now." He grins at her, and she notes that his teeth aren’t perfectly straight, which she somehow finds adorable.</p><p>She pushes her luck and rests her hand on his ribs. Not on the chest, which would be too familiar, and not across the belly, which would be too close to <em> certain </em> parts of his anatomy.</p><p>"What’s the status on these shuttles?" she probes.</p><p>He turns his head back to the ceiling. "Apparently, Russia has one ready to launch in a couple of days. SpaceX close behind. Or it’s all a lie and we’re stuck here until…"</p><p>"Until," she parrots. She swallows the sense of doom back down, past her chest, into the pit of her stomach. Now is not the time for doomsday talk. Not when Ben is so close and half-naked and smells so good.</p><p>They lie in silence for a while, the steady whir of the ceiling fan and the thick air lulling Rey into a trancelike state where her hands suddenly grow a mind of their own. The pads of her fingers trace little circles on Ben’s warm skin, and he lets her pursue her kitten-like kneading for a minute longer until he turns his body to face hers.</p><p>Suddenly she is shy. She refuses to meet his eyes and stares at his chin instead. Her hand, however, migrates from his ribs to his chest. The <em> thump-thump-thump </em> of his heart beats wildly under her palm.</p><p>"You good?" Ben asks at the same time he places his free hand on her waist. He doesn’t move it, but she wants to beg him to touch her <em> more </em>. Move up or down—whichever direction will feel good.</p><p>Rey manages a quick nod, which Ben must have taken as permission to try something else. Or he’s read her mind because his thumb starts mimicking the lazy circles she had subjected him to earlier.</p><p>When his hand begins travelling up until his thumb brushes her bra cup, her fingers curl and dig into his chest.</p><p>"Still good?" he asks again, but this time, his hand is skirting the edges of her bra. A request for permission, which she is more than happy to provide.</p><p>Rey finally meets his gaze. His eyes are dark and unreadable, almost terrifying in their intensity. She nods again, granting him the permission he is wordlessly asking for.</p><p>Ben doesn’t waste time. He deftly pulls the bra cup down before covering her breast with his wide palm. Rey’s eyes flutter shut as he squeezes before taking her hardened nipple between his fingers and rolling gently.</p><p>She doesn’t get to dwell on the sensation of being fondled by his large hand, because he shimmies down to cover her nipple with his mouth. The sensation is odd, almost tickling her, but when he starts to suck, her eyes roll to the back of her head.</p><p>"Oh my god," she babbles to the ceiling, silently praying that her tits don’t taste like sunscreen.</p><p>Ben rolls her onto her back so he looms over her, his mouth attached to her breast and his hands groping every part of her body he can reach.</p><p>Rey runs her fingers through his wavy black hair and grasps a handful by the roots as she struggles to control the fiery desire in her core.</p><p>When his fingers slip past her underwear and along her wet folds, she gasps and says, "Okay," before he could ask her another question.</p><p>She isn’t aware of how wet she already is until Ben’s finger slides right in without much resistance. He adds another finger at the same time he surges up to suck a bruise on her neck.</p><p>He pumps his fingers in and out, curling and hitting that sweet spot that makes her knees quake and robs the air from her lungs. And his lips—those plush lips that have yet to taste hers—they trace a path of fire from her neck to her jaw. Every spot he kisses burns, while his tongue comforts and quenches in its wake.</p><p>Rey comes without warning—with a guttural moan, back arching high, and with Ben two fingers deep and lips latched on the soft spot between her jaw and her ear. She hears nothing but her own breathing and sees stars on his ceiling. They burst and multiply into multicolored galaxies, birthing more stars with molten cores exploding and imploding in time with the slowed caresses of his wet fingers against her clit.</p><p>Ben plants featherlight kisses on her cheek as she catches her breath. When she thinks she has settled back down on Earth, he captures her lips in his, finally.</p><p>He is gentle when he tastes her mouth, and he doesn’t push when her tongue dances with his. She could get used to this. She <em> wants </em> more of Ben. So he obliges her, rolling them so she is on top of him as they continue to explore each other’s mouths.</p><p>At 9 AM, when the water is turned back on, Rey pulls Ben into the shower and gets on her knees.</p><p>"Good?" she asks after she licks a wet stripe along the underside of his cock. He nods and leans back against the wet tile, tongue-tied.</p><p>☼</p><p>"Do you want to check the mail with me?" Rey asks later that afternoon after they moved their activities to the bed and then took a long nap. Ben accidentally wakes her up when he rolls off the bed to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, and they have been unable to fall back asleep since.</p><p>"Do I have to put on pants?" Ben mumbles into his pillow.</p><p>Rey pushes off the bed to hunt for her discarded underwear. "You don’t have to. I think we as a people have evolved past the need for clothes."</p><p>Despite her cavalier attitude towards semi-nudity, Rey is secretly glad that no one is roaming the halls or the stairs. The trek down five floors in a narrow staircase makes them sweat profusely by the time they arrive at the mailroom, but any activity these days makes everyone sweat. So they don’t comment on how disgusting and sticky they feel, and how it makes them keep a foot’s distance away from each other.</p><p>Rey finds her mailbox empty, which is equal parts surprising and disappointing. It must have shown on her face because Ben plants a warm hand on her shoulder gently.</p><p>"What’s wrong?"</p><p>Rey locks her mailbox and sighs. "I’ve been…waiting. For a while." She pauses, unsure whether to continue. But it’s been so long since she’s talked about it—she hasn’t heard from Rose in a while, and…Ben did ask. "I’ve been hoping my parents would write to me."</p><p>"Your parents? I thought—"</p><p>She recalls telling him of her past as a foster kid, bounced around from house to house since she was five without a clue where she came from or who her parents were. He had been kind and comforting that night he sat with her after the break-in, but he’d only heard half the story.</p><p>"Plutt contacted me almost four years ago. He said he knew my parents, that they used to live in the apartment I’m in now. He showed me a picture of my mother holding me when I was a baby." She smiles at the memory of the image—she knows she got her looks from her mother—but frowns when she remembers that Plutt didn’t even let her keep the photo. "So he offered to get me in touch with them, and in exchange, I have to live in the apartment and pay ten percent more in rent."</p><p>"What?" Ben whirls her around by her shoulders to face him. "This doesn’t sound right, Rey. He could be scamming you—"</p><p>"You don’t think I haven’t thought of that?" Rey hisses. "Plutt’s my only chance of finding my parents, and since we have less than a month left to live, I don’t see the point in changing the way I live my life. For all I know, they could be on their way here."</p><p>Ben releases her shoulders and steps back, unknitting his eyebrows and looking apologetic. But he doesn’t say anything, and honestly, Rey doesn’t want him to. There is nothing he can say at this moment to make her feel better. She dug herself into a hole the second she opened that letter from Unkar Plutt, and she wasn’t getting out anytime soon.</p><p>"Plutt may be lying, or he may not," she says softly, taking his hand in hers. "And I may never meet my parents, or I finally will before all this is over." She wants to add that she has nothing left to lose, but that’s not entirely true now. Her moments with Ben, no matter how fleeting and short, were immensely precious to her, and she wouldn’t have had them if she weren’t living in Plutt’s rundown building. Rose’s infectious optimism must be rubbing off on her because Rey finally understands what a silver lining is.</p><p>Ben squeezes her hand and smiles before pulling her to him and surprising her with a chaste kiss. He rests his forehead against hers and whispers, "No matter what happens, you’ll have me until the very end."</p><p>☼</p><p>Vivaldi’s Concerto No. 1 in E major—Ben’s favorite. His earliest memory with this masterpiece was at ten years old, Sunday breakfasts spent in the backyard with his parents, eating butterscotch pancakes and sipping on their favorite hot beverages. His dad, Han, always had black coffee while reading the paper, his mom, Leia, had matcha green tea, and he had hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. On the days that Han let him pick a record to play, he’d put on an old vinyl with a good mix of classical concertos (another flea market find from Uncle Luke) and they’d leave the patio door open to hear the music better from outside.</p><p>Han would pat him on the back and say, "Good choice, kid."</p><p>Today, "Spring" is playing on his battery-powered Victrola record player, the same vinyl that he’d nicked from his parents before he left home.</p><p>Ben lets his phone ring for ten seconds while he contemplates letting it go to voicemail. He has very little strength to roll over from his spot on the floor just to reach over to the couch where he left his phone. But he does so anyway and swipes the answer button before the call drops. It barely registers that the Caller ID says ‘Mom’ before he hears his mother’s voice on the other line.</p><p>"Ben? How are you, son?"</p><p>It’s been so long since he last heard her voice, probably over a year ago, at Christmas. And yet she hasn’t changed. Leia Organa still says "Ben" in that familiar soft, raspy voice that he’s missed so much.</p><p>He knows she can’t see him, but he trains his face to look as stoic as he can make it. "I’m fine. How are you and dad?"</p><p>"We’re alright. I’m glad to know you’re okay." He hears her shuffle the phone, probably moving it from ear to ear, before dropping her voice to a whisper. "Ben, I called because—because I have important news."</p><p>Ben sits up straighter and clutches the phone closer to his ear. "Okay?" he prompts.</p><p>When he doesn’t say anything else, she presses on, "We have a seat for you on board the <em> Raddus </em>. It’s a ship—"</p><p>His stomach somersaults at her words.</p><p>"I’ve heard of the <em> Raddus </em>, Mom. I—I didn’t know it was real." Ben pauses, struggling to remember the podcasts he’s listened to lately and wondering if he’d missed a detail amidst all the conflicting information and conspiracy theories. "Resistance Corp never said anything—"</p><p>"They wouldn’t have. Resistance Corp is keeping this a secret for as long as possible; seats are limited and are very expensive."</p><p>"And you bought me a seat?"</p><p>"Of course, honey," Leia says. "<em> Raddus </em> is leaving for Gliese 667 Cc in two days—now, I know this is very short notice, but Han and I only just found out we’ve been selected."</p><p>Ben replays his mother’s words and breaks them into chunks his heat-addled mind can understand. </p><p>"—6.8 parsecs, so we’ll be put in stasis during the journey. They’ve assured us it’s safe and it’s been tested, but do we have any other choice, really? This is all a big gamble."</p><p>"Mom," Ben interjects, and Leia halts her litany immediately. "I can’t."</p><p>There is an eerily silent pause on the line that Ben has to check that he hadn’t accidentally hung up on her.</p><p>After a while, she chimes back in, "What do you mean you can’t?"</p><p>He sighs, not quite knowing how to explain himself. "I just—I can’t go with you. I’m sorry. Maybe Uncle Luke can take my spot?"</p><p>"Ben, why are you doing this?"</p><p>He turns to glance at his front door, imagining Rey on the other side of it, wearing nothing but her underwear and a goofy grin on her face. And it all makes sense, despite the bleakness and the impending doom. He can’t leave Earth, because he can’t leave <em> her </em>.</p><p>He hears Leia sniffle and it truly does hurt his heart to hear her cry. "Mom," he whispers delicately, slowly, making sure she’s listening to him. "I love you and Dad. I hope you have a safe trip."</p><p>It takes Leia a few more seconds of sniffling and swallowing before Ben hears more shuffling over the phone and then a gruff voice. "Ben?"</p><p>"Dad," Ben manages past the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.</p><p>"Just wanted to say…take care of yourself." Han mumbles something incoherent, the way he always does when he’s unsure what to say or how to end a conversation. Usually he will back himself into a door before slipping away, but that tactic doesn’t work over the phone. "You’ve always made good choices, kid. I trust you on this one."</p><p>Ben feels pressure between his eyes, blurring his vision and stinging his nose. He croaks out, "Dad—" before choking on a quiet sob.</p><p>"I know," Han responds softly.</p><p>☼</p><p>It takes less than six hours for news of the <em> Raddus </em> to spread, with Ben’s podcasts reporting on the now-confirmed details of the exclusive slots aboard Resistance Corp’s escape shuttle, available only to the rich who can afford them. He started tuning out when they delved into a regurgitated discussion of the habitability of Gliese 667 Cc, developments in successful human stasis for deep space travel, and—of course—the end of the world.</p><p>It takes even less time for people to take to the streets in protest, although with the intense heat, the crowd disperse just as quickly from what Ben could see from his balcony. Rey soon joins him, her pretty face half-hidden under a wide-brimmed straw hat and her favorite pair of sunglasses. They watch as angry protestors hold their makeshift posters and signs up over their heads to protect themselves from the unforgiving rays of the sun.</p><p>"What do you think they want?" Ben asks.</p><p>"I refuse to think they’re all that delusional to believe they deserve a seat on the <em> Raddus </em>," she says with a smirk. "I saw pictures; that ship is small. Can’t possibly fit seven billion people in it."</p><p>Ben grips the railing of his balcony hard. "Do <em> you </em> wish you were on that ship?"</p><p>Rey snorts. "No. Do <em> you </em>?"</p><p>It would be so easy to tell her that he was offered a seat, but he chose to die on Earth with her for some inexplicable reason. What if he ignores how stupid it sounds in his head, and just tells her that he chooses to cater to his intense crush on her over his will to live? The worst that could happen is she laughs in his face, and the humiliation won’t last long. The Sun will make sure of it. The call of the void is tempting, but he keeps his mouth shut and shakes his head.</p><p>This seems to appease her curiosity because she nods sagely. "It feels a bit like cheating, doesn’t it? Escaping our ultimate fate by shuttling off to space?"</p><p>"What do you mean?" He wants to take her hand and lead her back inside, away from the Sun and the occasional "Fuck the rich!" being yelled out from the street below.</p><p>"I think this is our fate. This is <em> it </em>, Ben." Her eyes shine wildly when she swings her arms wide. "Humankind is meant to die in a few weeks. It’s better to accept this now, than ship ourselves off to another exoplanet we know nothing about."</p><p>He rests his hand on her hip and flicks the wide brim of her hat so he can look into her eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you’re too much of a pessimist?"</p><p>She covers his hand with hers and runs it along his forearm with a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Rose used to say that about me all the time. But I think the correct term is a realist."</p><p>He slides his hand around her waist and tugs her flush against him. Her body is so soft and solid—it’s been far too long since he’s held a woman like this. But none of the past women ever looked at him the way she does, with her large hazel eyes and freckle-kissed face. She gazes up at him like he is the last man on Earth, and he is all hers.</p><p>"You’re the most real thing in my life right now." He didn’t mean to say it out loud—he’s not even sure what it means entirely. But she flashes him that big toothy smile of hers, and he figures he must’ve said something right.</p><p>Two nights later, when the city is quiet and relatively dim, Rey picks the lock to their building’s rooftop. They sneak in with a bundle of blankets, and the last of her Aloha Kiwi Passionfruit candle. Beneath the bright starless sky, Ben and Rey make love. And in the distance, an orange glow rises from the horizon, launching straight into the heavens, marking a modern-day Exodus. The <em> Raddus </em> has left Earth.</p><p>☼</p><p>The first thing they notice when they wake up the next morning is the temperature. Previously, as they neared doomsday, the temperature rose exponentially daily. However, today, nothing feels different.</p><p>As if the world has stopped its course towards the Sun.</p><p>Ben and Rey can hear clamoring in the halls and out in the streets, indecipherable chatter flitting in through the open window. They sit up in bed as Ben casts a live news coverage from his phone to his bedroom TV.</p><p><em> "—the so-called </em> city killer <em> asteroid in Russia, which is more devastating than the 1908 Tunguska Event or the asteroid that hit Chelyabinsk in 2013. If you remember, 1,200 people were injured after the shockwave in Chelyabinsk collapsed roofs and shattered windows. Although most of it hit the Kara Sea last night, we are getting reports that almost all of Siberia has been obliterated from the map. We are awaiting satellite photographs to corroborate this. </em></p><p>
  <em> "Joining us right now is Ezra Bridger, NASA Chief Astronomer. Ezra, how did this asteroid go undetected?" </em>
</p><p>Rey doesn’t notice her iron grip on Ben’s thigh until his hand clamps down on hers. A large chunk of northern Russia is gone. The video shows clips and photographs of the devastation caused by the surprise asteroid that supposedly hit Earth last night.</p><p>"How did we not feel it? Was there an earthquake?" she asked Ben, but he merely shook his head.</p><p>Ezra Bridger explains how scientists missed the asteroid, and how there was no way to stop it even if they had caught it weeks before impact.</p><p>
  <em> "Ezra, I’ll cut to the chase, because we’ve all been wondering—did this asteroid affect our trajectory towards the Sun at all?" </em>
</p><p>For a moment, Ezra appears to hesitate, opening and closing his mouth before finally clearing his throat.</p><p>
  <em> "It is too early to confirm, and there is a much-needed discussion with peers, but…yes, the asteroid did change our course." </em>
</p><p>Rey slips her hand into Ben’s. They stare at the TV with bated breaths.</p><p><em> "The Earth is moving </em> away <em> from the Sun," Ezra announces. </em></p><p>
  <em> The news anchor breathes an audible sigh of relief, but Ezra stops him before he could say something stupid like "good news" amidst the literal destruction of Russia. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Let me amend my statement—Earth is moving way too fast away from the Sun. And like before, there is still no solution, no way to stop." </em>
</p><p>☼</p><p>Ben loans Rey one of his smaller shirts for her to wear. After weeks of not wearing clothes, it feels strange to be covered by fabric now.</p><p>They make their quiet trek down the stairs, past the mailbox, and out the front gate.</p><p>In the street, people in various states of undress roam around. Some still in their underwear, some donning a shirt or pants just like they have. Most of them are crying, although Rey can’t tell for what. Perhaps they heard about Siberia and the massive loss of lives. Or perhaps they heard about humanity’s reversal of fortune; except, it is all bad news. The wheel turned in a different direction, yet still landed them back in the same deadly predicament. If prayers worked, one could say everyone had prayed too much, too hard.</p><p>Rey shields her eyes with one hand while the other deftly finds Ben’s and laces their fingers together. Despite the cold sense of dread that floods her veins, Ben’s soft, warm hands radiate peace…and resignation.</p><p>The Sun looks smaller and less bright.</p><p> </p><p>☀</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Quadene is not a real drug; it came from a <a href="https://www.wordlab.com/name-generators/drug-o-matic-name-generator/">random drug name generator</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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